Moral Lust
by Hannaadi88
Summary: As a vampire, Francis never thought much about drinking another's blood. A meal was a meal, oui? ...Until he met Antonio. -For Miruchan-


_Moral Lust_

_-X-_

Antonio looked through the window at the shining, perfect full moon. The light from it shone in his unearthly green orbs. He closed his eyes, letting the moonlight bathe him, illuminating his unusually tanned skin. Unusual for a Vampire.

He walked towards the window again and leaned his forehead against it. When would his master arrive? The French vampire never set a time, just a date. Saying that he would arrive, when he arrived. Always leaving Antonio hanging...waiting...longing.

"_Por favor, prisa, señor Francis._"

Francis took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the fresh night breeze. He pulled the leather jacket around him closer, walking slowly in the dark night. He could have been going faster, if he wished. But he was in no hurry. Antonio would wait for him even if it meant eternity.

Which they both had.

The vampire licked his lips, the taste of his previous meal still lingering. A deep rich crimson liquid stained his lips. Oh, she had been willing enough... And gave her life away just as fast. No, as much as he had wanted to have a whole harem of them, no vampire could go through the delicate and risky process of turning another human into a vampire more than once. It was a gift he could bestow on only one other.

And that person had been Antonio. Happy, innocent and delicate Antonio. Oh, it had been an adventure, seeing if the Spaniard would either die or his body would accept the change. Nerve wrecking, even.

But all that was in the past. The very _far _past.

He paused in front of a marble building. Looking around to see that no one was watching, the vampire floated off his feet, hanging between heaven and earth. After a few groundless moments, the Frenchman landed on a balcony. Sitting down on the low rail, locks of blond hair were pushed from his face by the cool autumn wind.

Francis remained there. Waiting. Waiting for the Spaniard to notice his presence.

Antonio sighed and opened his closed eyes, his forehead still resting on the cool glass. He looked up and spotted moonlit blond hair and skin as pale as ivory. His unearthly green eyes widen with happiness, and a brilliant smile lit his face.

Francis was here!

Breathing a hardly audible sigh of relief, he exited through the glass door and closed it softly and slowly behind him. Then he turned to face his Master. "Francis! _Esperé a que_!" He exclaimed happily, taking a step towards the French vampire.

The vampire remained seated in his place, a friendly smirk on his face. It always was like this. Really, it was a wonder how attached vampires were to their masters... And even more interesting how the feeling was mutual.

It was a complicated relationship. One of the main purposes that one would create such a bond would be the feeding, of course. Those who were moral fed only once a moon, on their monthly meetings with their respective partner. Be it master or dependent, they both needed it.

But Francis was far from moral.

He craved the living. The warm, juicy blood. And while Antonio offered all he had willingly, it still wasn't enough. But everything else he supplied- the company, the comfort... the sex... it made up for the fact his vital fluid was as cold as ice.

He beckoned the Spaniard over with his finger, tilting his head just so. "How have we been, _mon amour_?" He asked quietly, voice barely over a whisper. He let the wind carry it away.

Antonio willingly stepped forwards until he was mere inches away from Francis, unable to resist that crook of a finger, that tilt of his head, that whisper that carried deep into his heart. "_Espera_," Antonio murmured, "Always for you"

But then a memory flickered across his face and his eyes slipped away from Francis'. "Gilbert was here again..." He murmured. The German Incubus rarely took an interest in an individual but he seemed to have taken an interest in the Spanish Vampire. Antonio remembered the night he'd appeared again, the tale flickering across his face.

Moonlight had shone through this very same window, had glittered in white blond hair and added an ethereal, luminous quality to skin so pale it was almost translucent. Yet those eyes, so _red_. Red like roses, like Claret wine, like fresh blood. They delved deep and pierced your soul with a desire to please the Incubus.

And that voice, that voice that had temptation _dripping_ from every mere syllable. That voice that made you want to do whatever it suggested, that oozed with honey and syrupy words_. "Kommt zu mir,"_ A crook of a long, pale finger_. "Kommt zu mir und du wirst nicht alleine sein."_

And Antonio had gone to him. It was hard to resist him, especially when he did feel alone. And Gilbert was so good at it, so very, _very_ good. His eyes flickered back to Francis, looking up at the Frenchman through long, dark lashes. "_Me perdonas_?" he asked.

Francis's deep-blue eyes narrowed at the mentioning of Gilbert, studying the guilty expression on the other's face. A moment later, though, he gave a short chuckle and jumped off the rail delicately. He approached the Spaniard and took hold of the other's chin with a pale hand, lifting Antonio's face so that he was looking straight into his eyes.

"Gilbert shall be Gilbert, and sinners shall lie with sinners. But you are _my _sinner." The Frenchman murmured seductively, his other arm snaking around Antonio's waist.  
He wasn't faithful to Antonio, so why should he expect the other to keep vows he himself could not withstand? But, no matter what, they were bond to each other. Like it or not. Oh, but he liked it. Very, very much.

For a short moment, he pressed his lips to the Spaniard's neck, expertly finding the pulse. He sighed as he pulled away, pressing his lips instead to the other's.

Antonio lifted slim fingers to rest against Francis' jaw line and neck as he kissed and was kissed in return. He could feel the French Vampire's pulse underneath the tips of his fingers and he felt a rising hunger within him.

He hadn't fed since the last time Francis was here and he refused to drink human blood. He kissed back hungrily, pushing his body against Francis', twining a hand through silky, blond hair, desperate for the warm rush of fresh blood down his throat.

He didn't realize they'd moved until they clattered against the glass doors. At the loud noise he broke the kiss and looked over his shoulder, biting his lip. It seemed as if the silence was sacred, and the Spaniard was loath to break it. Ironic, for a vampire.

Chuckling at the other's worry, the French vampire placed a chaste kiss on Antonio's temple, reassuring him. He loved him like this, a slight anxiety quickening the blood.

Licking his lips absently, Francis's blue eyes gleamed. True, he had just fed, but his appetite was never fulfilled. He pressed against the Spaniard, making sure this time to make less noise. His mouth traveled down Antonio's throat, lingering and sucking at selected spots of skin. No biting, yet. Making sure his hands were not idle, they kept the other in place, pulling them even closer.

Suddenly, Francis pulled away, a smug look tugging at his features. Slowly, seductively, he removed his jacket and let it fall to the floor. His pale and smooth neck was all but revealed.

"Come." He ordered, knowing that Antonio didn't really need any telling.

Antonio's eyes were wide as he stared at the oh so pale skin on his master's neck. His pupils dilated until the black almost overtook the green and he stepped towards Francis. He put his hand on the French Vampire's chest and the other hand took the other side of Francis' neck, fingers running through beautiful blond hair.

His lips brushed the neck and he breathed in deeply from his nose, inhaling the scent he knew and loved. Like the heady scent of a deep red wine, it intoxicated him. He placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss on Francis' neck and then pierced the soft skin, two red beads of blood welling up.

And once Antonio had the taste, he had to have more. He sucked and drank down Francis' blood, until rivulets of red ran down his chin.

The feeling that of having someone dig their teeth into you is unimaginable. The initial pain that of someone piercing your skin fades with the first suck, a wave of bliss clouding every other thought.

It was dangerous. If the vampire drank all your blood- as they tended to do- you would die. And you wouldn't even notice, much the less care, as the pleasure distracted you. You would only notice when you felt empty, lifeless. For a few seconds, you would grasp what had happened to you.

But by then, it was too late.

It was too late for Francis. He never would experience such explicit bliss as mere humans did while they were fed on. On the other hand, he would never die. A fact that he did not care much about. He couldn't understand other vampires who cried in the loss of their humanity, the loss of mortality. Never being able to die. But, the Frenchman pondered, who wanted to die? Life was too exciting, changing by the minute.

So while he wasn't overcome by the pleasure, Francis still enjoyed the feeling of the Spaniard's actions. It was a warm, tingling feeling. He sighed in satisfaction and drooped his arms over the other's back loosely, trying weakly to pull him closer. Yes, even he lost some of his strength at those moments.

Antonio could feel himself getting less and less hungry the more blood he took from his master. He knew when to stop; he knew when he was taking too much to be healthy for the French Vampire. He knew what Francis' blood tasted like... he knew when his Master had taken from humans.

He pulled away with a small gasp for air and swallowed his fill. A trail of blood ran down either side of his mouth, staining his chin red. He tilted his head to one side and blinked at Francis, his pupils slowly contracting as the hunger abated, his green eyes revealed in their odd sense of innocence.

"You killed again tonight?" He asked, he didn't accuse because he was his master, but he did want to know. "_Se quitó la vida_?" He wanted to know, he wanted to know because he's made a promise. A promise to himself that he would never take the life of a human being for his own vain pleasure.

And here was Francis, with _unmixed _blood coursing through his veins.

Curiosity overtook the Frenchman as he leaned back against the rail, regaining his strength. He was breathless, as Antonio had stolen his breath away. Literally. Francis tilted his head, piercing blue eyes darkened with renewed hunger.

"_Oui_, I did, as I knew I was going to feed _tu _tonight, _cher_. I know what you like." Francis grinned, winking at the Spaniard. When he saw that the other didn't return his smile, he became serious again.

"Why do you ask? Are you hiding something from _moi_?"

"I hide nothing Master," He began quietly, his rich, rolling Spanish accent flowing from his mouth, making the words taste of gold and blood and wine. "But I would," He started, tilting his head to one side and towards Francis, looking up at him through heavy, dark lashes. "I would like to keep myself untainted by the guilt of death on my hands."

At that proclamation, the Frenchman tensed. This wasn't right. The refusal meant close to nothing to him- he could easily convince the Spaniard to give that theory up. Eventually. No, what worried him was Antonio's attachment to those mere mortals.

He had never been refused anything, and the other had seen what had happened to those that crossed Francis Bonnefoy. Those humans must mean a lot to Antonio if he was risking his ties with the French vampire. Aside from the slight hurt Francis felt at that, he worried about the other.

If he planned to keep that lifestyle, yet drink Francis's blood... It wouldn't end well. Either he will give in to temptation and lament later on for taking a life, or he will one day take too much. Not that the French vampire could die, but it would leave him in a very vulnerable position… and Francis did not lack rivals that would see his weakness as an advantage. He killed and drunk as much as he could so he would be able to protect himself and the Spaniard. That was the reason Francis never thought a human any more than a meal, the exception being Antonio. Which was why he changed him.

What type of mentor and master would he be if he allowed such heartbreak and danger to his student? Heartbreak that he knew to be destructive?

"Hush, no one is forcing you to kill someone." Francis calmed the other, stepping closer to him. He wrapped his arms around the Spaniard's frame, trying to smooth the muscles that tensed with the prospect of a threat. Vampires were very possessive. He sighed, resting his chin on Antonio's shoulder. "I simply do not think that this is a good idea, _cher_."

Antonio very nearly melted into Francis' arms, his tension and stubbornness dissipating with the smooth promises. But he tensed up again at the opinion of the French Vampire. Not a good idea? Why was it not a good idea?

Antonio sighed and stepped back, looking up at Francis with rapidly darkening eyes. "I knew you'd say that," He answered, looking up at Francis defiantly. His two instincts working against each other. One, to obey his master and the second, to protect what was his ideal.

"But I won't start looking for others to feed on." He added, thinking that maybe Francis was against it because he believed Antonio would go look for other supernatural creatures to drink their blood. Much stronger, fiercer creatures. Creatures that could go get their revenge on Antonio's master, holding his mentor as responsible.

So was that what Antonio thought worried him? Francis laughed quietly, darkly. "Non, it is you I am worried about. This whole deal will break your heart, Antonio." he stated softly, eyes dark. He picked up his jacket and started putting it back on.

Antonio blinked. "Break my...How will it break my heart?" He began, tilting his head to one side and frowning a little. When he saw the other moving off he darted forwards and grabbed Francis' wrist.

"_No te vayas_! You just got here..." He said, blinking up at Francis with eyes that were wide and quickly regaining their unearthly green color, now that the threat was, it seemed, gone.

Ah. Innocence. The same innocence that Francis fell for the first time he met the Spaniard.

He was supposed to be just another meal; another victim the newspapers would cover and try to figure out. People started to get suspicious, calling the new chain of killings 'Jack the Ripper, back from the dead'. And to be frank, Francis loved it. He loved being the one mortals prayed to god to save them from him. He loved being the popular theme of nightmares and horror stories alike. Everyone feared his existence.

Everyone, it seemed, except for Antonio.

Somehow, throughout the decades, Francis had been able to maintain that same innocence. He was not going to mar it now, in such a manner. He couldn't ruin the happy illusion the Spaniard seemed to have created for himself this past month, thinking he could keep up with this new 'righteous' lifestyle.

No. The only way to end it was to draw Antonio away, have him be the one to consciously decide to revert back to human blood. But for now, the Frenchman had to leave. It was dangerous. He had weakened from the latest feed, and he himself was hungrier now. If he didn't go, he wasn't sure if he could restrain his bloodlust. Even for Antonio.

"But I have to go, _amour_." Francis said regretfully, refusing to meet the other's gaze. But it tempted him. He turned around and found the same expression he fell for decades ago. A slight blush claimed his cheeks as he sighed and turned around completely, embracing Antonio tightly. He couldn't leave him like this.

Antonio clutched the back of Francis' shirt and buried his face in it. "I don't want you to..." He mumbled, with a little pout on his lips.

He didn't want Francis to leave. It was a long time 'till sunrise, and he knew that once Francis was gone, someone else was bound to turn up and probably someone he didn't want to see right now. Like Gilbert...or Arthur... He sighed, knowing that he was being a little childish, but he still didn't let go. If anything, he tightened his grip.

He was so close... His pulse thundered in his ears, calling to him to take a little taste... To try it out..

Francis shook his head harshly. He couldn't do that, not to Antonio. Anyone, everyone, but Antonio. It was the whole talk about humans which was at fault- it stimulated him. That, and the fact that he needed to regain his strength.

After all, the only way to kill a vampire was for its owner to drink his blood.

The Frenchman squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in, calming himself. He then pulled away gently from the other and smiled. "Another time, _mon cher_." Before the other was able to respond, he jumped off the balcony, landing delicately on the ground and disappearing in the darkness.

Until next full moon.

* * *

_Hanna Chan's Blah-Blah Corner;_

_This fic was written for miruchan from LJ for the France X Spain Christmas Secret Santa Exchange ^^ I hope you like it, and that it matches your prompt expectations... _

_I didn't write it myself- this was originally a roleplay with Caty-Cross, who was Antonio. All of the Antonio parts were written by here and edited and tweaked by me to fit the story ^^ I posted this with her permission, of course, and a million thank-yous *hugs* I wouldn't have been able to do this alone XD_

_So... merry x-mas? :D_

_-Hanna_


End file.
